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January 2019 Guest Editor Is BOLA OPALEKE!!! Theme/s: FAITH // FAITHLESSNESS // DIVINITY

Burning House Press are excited to welcome BOLA OPALEKE as our JANUARY 2019 guest editor! As of today Bola will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of January.

Submissions for Bola are open from today – 1st January and will remain open until 24th January. Continue reading “January 2019 Guest Editor Is BOLA OPALEKE!!! Theme/s: FAITH // FAITHLESSNESS // DIVINITY”

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ReVerse Butcher: This is not a violin, it is a doorway

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This is not a violin, it is a doorway. I know this, because I read a lot. My notes and references are usually very detailed breadcrumb paths. But, as Brion Gysin said, the mice can get into the larder of language (and I add to his point, memory). And, well… I have no control over legions of mice.

“This is is not a violin, it is a doorway.”

Continue reading “ReVerse Butcher: This is not a violin, it is a doorway”

Loretta Oleck: Over the Threshold

lady with cane

Over the Threshold

 

We laugh like newlyweds

as you carry me over the threshold

into a house rife with the spirits

of former tenants-

 

a lonely caretaker, a childless couple,

a single mother-

 

their DNA peeling off the walls

like chipped paint.

Continue reading “Loretta Oleck: Over the Threshold”

Christina Tudor-Sideri: PASSING THROUGH THE HOME OF THE DYING

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Tachypsychia. The word we use for defining the neurological condition which alters our perception of time. Time lengthening, time moving slower, time contracting. A blurred vision of time as response to a traumatic event. Time as a collection of unrelated passages. Time as red lines on the temptation to exist. Time as well-captured intentions, the same throughout all journeys. Every inked reflection, a paradise lost. Continue reading “Christina Tudor-Sideri: PASSING THROUGH THE HOME OF THE DYING”

Josh Myers: Proper Entry and Exit

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Proper Entry and Exit

 

After Listening to “Canvas”

 

One must know what it is to be in and out. How to properly enter and exit. “Properly,” not in the sense of the bourgeoisie or uppity, but in the sense in which Robert Farris Thompson wrote about. Writing as he did about the ways we be.

 

There are ways of being in and out.

 

But how to enter and where to be once inside and how to decide when to no longer remain—what makes those decisions, those moments?

 

Can we ever reach the inside without entering?

 

And can we reach the outside without exiting?

Continue reading “Josh Myers: Proper Entry and Exit”

Susan E. Gunter: Composition: Mixed Media

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Composition: Mixed Media

 

I paint to learn what my eyes barely see,

things hidden to me: cast shadows, a latch,

my mother’s ghost floating behind the drapes.

 

I study the image I shot, its hues and patterns:

copper door, stained windows, the stone of walls

and sun faded stone, the blur of a doorway’s curve.

Continue reading “Susan E. Gunter: Composition: Mixed Media”

Daniel P Callanan: Thresholds

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I was thinking about Brutalism, cattle and passage tombs. Form, currency and death.

Walking the fields of North Cork and the headlands of Galway, casting cow-sheds as signs.

Homes for people, now homes for animals. Cycled forward by occupation, migration and forecasts. Radio broadcasts. Concrete and local stone piled into walls, supporting cold tin rooves. Corrugated steel. Cheap and functional, galvanised wave forms. Tin, iron and zinc combined and beaten thin. Weather resistant not weather proof.

Continue reading “Daniel P Callanan: Thresholds”

Dov Nelkin: 6 doors and One Slammed

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My brother’s childhood room and mine connect through paired doors, at three different points. Walk out my room and and ten paces would take you to my brother’s door, next to the AC control, across from the panic button. We also shared a bathroom, each room opening onto the sinks where we would brush our hair, or teeth, or forget to, side by side. With both doors open, you could have seen from pillow to pillow if you tried hard. Continue reading “Dov Nelkin: 6 doors and One Slammed”

Tucker Lieberman: It Does Not Matter Who Put You In the Cocoon

It Does Not Matter Who Put You In the Cocoon - by Tucker Lieberman Continue reading “Tucker Lieberman: It Does Not Matter Who Put You In the Cocoon”

Dan O’Brien: 3 poems

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Forty-One

When

You wake

From sleep

 

You wake

From death

You know

Continue reading “Dan O’Brien: 3 poems”

Ben Gedaliah: Room 168, the Hotel S-

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Room 168, the Hotel S-

The door opens to a married man, a single bed.

You’re not here, but your presence is everywhere. The bed is meticulous, signs you’ve been here are subtle, imagined, your outline dimpling the duvet, just a trace; Continue reading “Ben Gedaliah: Room 168, the Hotel S-“

Rebecca Loudon: Portal

portal

Portal

Strange goings on today televisions walk in and out the door pills spew from the cat’s mouth
here take your medicine fox at the door yip yips pit bull chews a piece of Wonder Bread the skull
of a boar on the table the boy reaches through a hole in his bathroom floor the door is open the
window is open Continue reading “Rebecca Loudon: Portal”

Aditya Shankar: 2 poems

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Isle of Brooders

From a jail in a far off island, boats arrive to

deport the sad. Grieving blood is tasty like the

legend of vanished rivers: an Acheron emptied

out by thirsty souls. Continue reading “Aditya Shankar: 2 poems”

Alison Graham: 3 poems

Continue reading “Alison Graham: 3 poems”

Konstantinos Papacharalampos: Hi, Passenger

Konstantinos Papacharalampos page oneKonstantinos Papacharalampos page two

Based in London, Konstantinos Papacharalampos (Greece, 1988) works in poetry, performance, installation and regeneration. After releasing K – On (ed. Entefktirio, 2011) his poems appeared in leading magazines in Greek and Russian and installed in situ in contemporary art festival Action Field Kodra. He then performed his second book Είναι/ Íne (ed. FRMK, 2015) in English (Velorose Gallery, London) and Greece (Lola Nikolaou Gallery, i.a.). Selected work was translated in German for Dichtung mit Biss (Freie Universität Berlin: ed. Romiosini/ CeMoG, 2018) and English for Futures: Poetry of the Greek Crisis (Penned in the Margins, UK, 2015). He holds a Diploma in Rural and Surveying Engineering from Aristotle University of Thessaloniki and an MSc Real Estate from CASS Business School (London). In 2018 he released his new poetry book, 3: Ανθρώπων Ιστορία/ 3: Anthrópon Istoría (ed. Koukounari), the hybrid pop project about repetition of ego in social media. See more from Konstantinos in his website or contact him via email. Twitter: @Kon_Papach  Continue reading “Konstantinos Papacharalampos: Hi, Passenger”

Flash Fiction & Two Poems by C. L. Ayre 

Between your [social] legs

Sometime in the past, B was born..

B breathes, welcoming the air external to the host person.

A: ‘What is between your legs, little one?’

B cries.

A: ‘Congratulations, it’s a.. >insert binary pronoun here< .’

B cries, again.

A: ‘What are you going to call >insert corresponding binary pronoun, here< ?’

Sometime later, after B has spent years experiencing on earth..

B: ‘I still breathe, and cry. The questioning human at my birth got the pronoun wrong. It was a mistake to think that my anatomy somehow directly corresponded to a distinctive set of social behaviours. Or, knowingly or unknowingly, any attempts to make that the case. Other determining factors which continue to make me me, were quite underestimated, overlooked or ignorantly bypassed. As were possibility and actuality.’

B Pauses.

B: ‘Yes, I have something between my legs, and person/human/homo sapien is my name’

A: ‘What is between your.. social.. legs, big one?’

B: ‘A variety of focal points for questioning. And I may not be one, but many. And why the assumption of ‘I’, anyway? But that’s for another time.’

Continue reading “Flash Fiction & Two Poems by C. L. Ayre “

Carnival and Lent by Laurence Thompson

A jar of paint-thick blood and mire

To wet an oxen’s head

A finger blackened by the fire

And pressed against the red.

 

A mask of white upon the fool

Who stares up from the feast

A couple fleeing with their mule

But cannot move the beast.

Continue reading “Carnival and Lent by Laurence Thompson”

Girls are Silver by Olga

girls are silver

 

                                          I was taught that

girls are silver       smiles to be polished

laughter the sound of a fingerflickedagainst

a     trophy     ringing  with emptiness.

 

                                              I knew that I wasn’t

silver   knew I was drinking from the depth

of starving wells     knew that girls

                                                        like me

                                                          would

rust Continue reading “Girls are Silver by Olga”

As I Rise by ReVerse Butcher

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rVb in tunnel
ReVerse Butcher is a multi-disciplinary artist with focuses in making unique artist’s books, collages, visual art, writing & performance. She will use any medium necessary to engage and subvert reality until it is less dull and oppressive. When she grows up she wants to be a well-read recluse. She currently lives in Melbourne, Australia.

Monstrous Woman by Leanne Moden

I want to be a Monstrous Woman

To speak out of turn

To take up space

To scandalise tabloid newspapers

 

I want to question authority

To win more fights than I lose

To take my fair share

And allow you to take yours too

 

I want never to apologise for myself again

Continue reading “Monstrous Woman by Leanne Moden”

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